


Before Dawn

by Tangrisha



Series: Behind Masks [2]
Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 11:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangrisha/pseuds/Tangrisha
Summary: "Be careful, barata. Be very careful, lest I corrupt thee before dawn.”





	Before Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I've kept this sequel to High Tides in the drawer for quite a long time because I wanted it to be perfect. But life is too f short and very few things are perfect, so, why not? 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, [farevenasdecidedtouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/farevenasdecidedtouse/profile)!

**Of sailors, bears, mazei and couriers**

 

_ Wilt wait for me? _

He couldn't remember if he had given any answer at all. Probably nothing more than a nod; his mind was still scattered. Luck loves the brave, as the saying goes, but one must pay the price nonetheless, and his knees were still trembling when, after a long couple of minutes spent as far from Emperor and Prince as possible, he finally deemed it safe to show his face in the Untheileian again. He walked up to the long tables for a glass of  weak wine, found a decent red on a side table prepared for the servantfolk, and picked up a plate of cold beef cuts in a congealed brown sauce, too. It was not as if he could eat a bite, but thus armed, he could hide behind a small standing-table pushing the meat around on the plate and waiting for the world to spin a bit slower around him. 

He tasted his wine in small sips while watching the ballroom. No one seemed to care about him, least of all the Emperor, who never even turned his head in Csevet's direction, but that was for the best. Luck indeed loves the brave but has little forbearance for the foolish; they may very well have used it all up in that alcove.

The sharp memory made his breath catch and he closed his eyes.  _ Salezheio, please, if this is a dream again, at least let me stay here until morning. _

At that moment someone slapped him on the back, hard enough that he almost bit down on the rim of his wineglass. He yelped, turned and saw the wide grin of a former roommate, Kobru, under a makeshift paper mask.

"Here thou art!" Kobru laughed and slapped him amiably again. "Been looking for thee for ages. Missed thee like fuck."

"Surely not as much as I'd miss my teeth, hadst kicked me a bit stronger," Csevet protested, but embraced his friend warmly.

"Hast grown so soft and weak in so little time, to break from one good hit?" Kobru tried to grab his arm but Csevet slapped his hand away.

"Stop that! Isn't Varadis around somewhere?"

"He is, but he'd approve." Kobru's grin widened. "Especially if we could share?"

Csevet lifted his nearly empty glass to his lips to win a little time. Kobru and Varadis were considered practically married but they still regularly invited others to their bed. On a couple of occasions he, too was their  _ guest, _ and was not disappointed. No reason to refuse now...

He was saved from having to answer when they spotted another courier, Chara, the bear he danced with earlier. His costume was almost bald by now and torn in several places; Chara had to hold it up with both hands. He walked towards them like someone whose pants were quite full. Csevet couldn't help laughing, and after a moment Kobru joined in, too.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you," Chara greeted them, and holding on to the table with one hand, he began to tear the remains of the costume off himself with the other, revealing a simple, tight pair of trousers and a short tunic striped with sweat stains. "There, that's better. It was hot as the inside of an oven, anyway." He kicked the discarded costume into the nearest corner and took a relieved breath. "Poor bears, have to wear that fur at all times," he added, then looked at Csevet. "Was that wine any good? Is there more? I'm dry like the old widow's cunt."

"Over there, on the first table. I'll go with thee, I want to get some more, too."

He didn't; he just wanted to get away from Kobru and his invitation, at least until he figured out how to turn it down. By the time they returned to the table, though, Kobru had company. Seeing the newcomer, Csevet had to suppress a cringe: it was Amathis, maker and owner of his ruined tashin sticks and mask, costumed as a maza himself. 

_ Wouldst have had to account for them sooner or later anyway,  _ he reminded himself.  _ Better to get over with it at once.  _

Amathis looked him down and up again with some suspicion.

"What happened to thee, flower of the fleet? Someone made thee walk the plank? Have my sticks and mask ended up on the bottom of the sea, too?"

Csevet swallowed. 

"I'm very sorry but Claris broke them," he replied truthfully. "And tore the mask, too. He was trying to haul me to his bed."

"Claris! That hog's ass!" Amathis hit the table with his fist, making Chara, who was considering Csevet's abandoned plate, start and scowl at him. "That mask took me two weeks to make!" He made a disgusted face. "I saw him prowling around but had no idea he was after thee. Will have a little chat with him once he wakes."

"Wakes? Is he all knocked out?"

"Aye, but where in the sweet fuck hast thou been to miss the best scene of the night? Pity, especially if it was thou who put that fistful of worms into his breeches. Thy dear Claris wanted to get a shot at some pretty young dach'osmer, too, but ended up on the short way out, sliding on his own snot, right after he threw up all over the pretty young dach'osmer's pretty costly clothes. Three had to haul him back to the dormitory. He'll have more than one kind of headache, come morning... and probably won't even remember a word of why."

"Can't say I'm too sorry," Csevet said dryly. The others laughed. Chara raised his glass.

"To all our morning-afters! May they be painless!" He drank; Amathis and Kobru followed his example. Csevet obediently sipped from his wine, too.

"I think I've had enough for tonight," he said and tried to put the glass down but Kobru pushed his hand back up, grinning.

"Eh, what?! I know thee better than that: canst take it by the jug and still walk and talk like an  _ Imperial secretary. _ Drink properly, don't scare our luck away. Canst sleep it off tomorrow. As I said, there is a nice bed already waiting for thee."

Csevet had already lifted the glass to his lips; now he almost choked on the next sip. 

"I really can't," he managed to say. "Got an... appointment for after the ball." Maia's words tasted strange on his tongue, like a memory of a kiss. He swallowed.

"An appointment? What appointment?" Chara suddenly lost all interest in the cold beef, the other two in the wine. Csevet took a deep breath. What better way to mislead the rumors than to start some himself?

"I may have scored myself a patron."

A beat of silence followed his words.

"A patron," Kobru repeated incredulously. "Just now?"

Chara elbowed him in the ribs.

"Come on, it was high time. Thy money was lost long ago anyway and I would've thought there was something seriously wrong with him if he hadn't gotten lucky very soon now."

"Wait, what?" Csevet looked from one to another in confusion but they just laughed.

There was a running bet," Amathis explained instead. "Someone said it would take less than a month from the coronation before thou wert picked up from the market. Others, hm, disagreed. It ended up with a nice little heap of coins but the longest bet was what, six months?"

"Five, but everyone said it was ridiculous because there was no way thou wouldst come out on the other side of Winternight without a toe ring made just for thee." Kobru emptied his glass. "Money is in the sickness fund now, if that makes thee feel better," he added.

"I'm glad to have been of service," Csevet grimaced. 

"Don't play up the hurt dignity, fits thee ill." Kobru waved his hand dismissively. "Rather, tell us who would thy patron be?"

Csevet laughed and took another sip of the wine. Seeing how Kobru's eyes lit up with curiosity, suddenly he wasn't at all sure if starting rumors had been a good idea. Kobru might have just as likely taken it as an interesting challenge to find out the name as to be decent about it. If he started asking around... and if Claris woke and remembered... 

_ Let that be tomorrow's worry. _ He sent up a short, wordless plea to Salezheio and smiled at his friend. 

"I remember sharing not only my room but also my secrets with thee back when I was still young and naive. I've learned from my mistakes. The day I'll want it for the entire Court to know, I'll go and put up that placard myself, thank thee very much."

Kobru grinned back good-naturedly at the retort.

"Couldst spare thyself the pain of trying to keep it secret. Knowst just as well as we do that nothing can remain hidden from us."

"You could start a bet, until then?" Csevet suggested innocently. Amatis snickered; Chara nearly spat out the mouthful of beef he was chewing. Kobru only gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Oh, just as well. I can see thine eyes shining like new coins. Must be a beautiful toe ring indeed. Steel, silver or gold, an thou carest to tell that much?"

Csevet blinked. 

"Silver," he said. "But..." 

"And how tight?"

A moment of silence.

"Not unbearably so," Csevet replied slowly. "Even for the long term."

"That's good, then." Kobru patted his shoulder, then didn't let go. "Now, let's get down to work, because we don't have the whole night. Hast looked at thyself recently?"

"What? Why?" Csevet peered down at his chest but found no wine stains. "What's wrong with me?"

Instead of answering, Kobru reached behind Csevet's back and grabbed his plait.

"This, to begin with! This won't do. Wert thou picked for a scholar or a maza, to present thyself like one? Detestable. Hast a comb or a pin or a ribbon at least?"

Csevet shook his head, partly as answer, partly to try and free his plait from Kobru's hand. "No. Let me go!"

Chara and Amathis were no help; both of them were watching the unfolding scene expectantly. 

"What, now?! I'm just trying to help. We need to pretty thee up for thy new patron. Now that thou hast finally lost that terrible style thou hast been wearing lately, we may as well make thee a more befitting one." He turned to the others. "Do you have a pin or stick to spare? Your fellow here is in grave need."

"I've already lost two perfectly good sticks on that one," Amathis grumbled, but took out one of his own hair. Chara did the same; he even produced a small comb from a hidden pocket. Seeing their enthusiasm to  _ help _ , Csevet decided that as long as they didn’t want to cut or dye his hair, it would be the wisest to just go with the tide and find a minute later to undo the damage.

"Hast had too much wine, Kobru." he sighed.

"No, just enough to feel splendid, even though thou hast fucked us all over," his friend grinned. "Turn around. No, hands down!"

Csevet, for lack of something better to do, folded his arms across his chest and tried to follow from the way his friends combed, pulled, yanked, twisted, loosened his hair here and there, what his new style would be. The suppressed laughter and the bitten-off words he heard didn't ease his suspicions. He tried to feel out what was happening more than once, but his hands were batted away mercilessly." 

"Dost not trust us?" Amathis inquired, and shoved one of the sticks through a knot of hair. 

"Dare I even answer this?"

"One more word of complaint, and I will get some greasepaint, too," Kobru promised. "A minute and wilt be all done up. All I want as payment is a dance, the four of us together." 

"That's some price for a service never requested. Can I look now?"

"Look all thou want'st." Kobru stepped back. Csevet's hands immediately flew up, only to find a hopeless tangle on his head, worth at least a quarter of an hour to comb out, secured with three mismatched tashin sticks.

Kobru watched his face and was probably satisfied with the result because he laughed again. 

"Great! And now let's dance!" 

They formed a small circle, arms around each others' shoulders and danced; at one point, of course, it turned into a contest of trying to kick one another's feet out from under him, then to dance again. Finally, after four or five songs, Kobru broke the ring. 

"Enough, now, or I will follow Claris's example soon," he gasped and tuned to Csevet. "Come, walk me back to the dormitory. Then go wherever needst to go, Salezheio bless thee." 

Chara and Amathis accompanied them to the door, making a show of supporting Kobru, who, in turn, made a show of being much more drunk than he actually was, but they turned back from there. Csevet and Kobru walked down the halls in silence, only nodding to a couple of fellow couriers, who didn't even try to hide their amusement seeing Csevet's new hairstyle.

"Hast made a nice spectacle of me," Csevet complained but Kobru shook his head.

"Be this the worst to happen to thee up there." 

They reached the last corner. Kobru stopped and turned to look at Csevet again. "Just don't forget which way the dormitory door opens. And try to take care of thyself, wilt thou?"

"I'll be all right, Kobru. I promise."

"Would that it depended on thee. Anyway, what did that fellow, that Ro-whatshisface keep saying? Long days and pleasant nights, friend."

They embraced each other, then Csevet turned to leave. He felt that this time the wish might even come true.

 

                                                                                                                  *** * ***

 

**Their night begins at dawn**

 

The ball went on well into the dawn hours, even after Idra himself retired. The courtiers were tireless; they drank and danced even when only the worst jug wine was left and the musicians were hardly able to extort more than a disgruntled cat's yowl from their instruments. The decorations sagged under the tired light of the gas lamps -- stained draperies hung half-ripped from their pegs, their edges trampled on; sodden and torn paper flowers, masks and other, unrecognizable litter lay underfoot or barely kicked out of the way, and somewhere among it, Maia knew, lay a broken, red tashin stick and a mask made from bits of rope.

Reality was creeping back into the Untheileian, but there were still many wanting to converse with the emperor, and Maia, much as he wished to, could not refuse them. So he repeated the same meaningless lines over and over as means of idle talk, without paying much attention. It worked surprisingly well, probably because he had no mind left to fret over his conversationalist abilities as he usually did.

He had other things to fret over. As the minutes passed, he first looked for signs, subtle or overt, that someone had seen them after all and there was a scandal already brewing but found nothing. Later, as he caught a glimpse of the sailor laughing, dancing, drinking with others, not looking into his direction even once, he could not shake the thought that it had not really happened, that he had only dreamed or imagined it all. It only got worse later, when he saw the sailor leave the Untheileian with three other young men, his hair done up again in a probably very communicative way, secured with three mismatched tashin sticks, still nearly falling apart. They must have been couriers heading back to the dormitory to get some sleep, too, before their next workday. 

From then on, much as he wanted to shut it out, he kept hearing the lion-man's sneering words over and over.  _ Haven't we agreed that thou wouldst spend the night with me? Underneath me, in sooth?"  _

Finally he decided that whoever stayed this long wouldn't miss him, and left the Untheileian.

After the warmth of the ballroom, thick with perfumes, alcohol and sweat, the fresh cold of the halls felt like a slap to his face. Now even more than before, everything that had happened in there seemed like a quickly fading dream. 

Walking down the long, echoingly empty corridors, up the stairs, Maia was not sure anymore what he felt more afraid of, spending the remainder of the night alone or with company. Excitement and dread strained his raw nerves and it took great self-control to not let his ears show either. He tried to count his forcibly measured steps but his mind kept running ahead. 

No one waited at the grilles but the guards who bowed deeply, then closed and locked the gate behind him with a  _ clang _ that sounded more final than it actually was.  _ The emperor has retired for the night.  _ By the time he reached the top of the tower he had almost convinced himself that he hadn't actually been hoping for anything and wasn't bitter about it, either. 

He entered the antechamber, expecting his edocharei to appear and divest him of the costume, but only silence and the weak light of a single candle greeted him. Before the feeling of wrongness could grow to actual alarm in his tired and distracted mind, both Kiru and Telimezh took action: the soldier stepped in front of him as living shield, ready to draw his sword, while the maza threw a blinding ball of light into the room to reveal any danger lurking in the shadows. 

"Oh." Maia heard a smile in Kiru's voice. The light pulsed once, then blinked out. Telimezh stepped aside; he still didn't let go the hilt of his sword but Maia could now see what was going on, and suddenly hoped that his nohecharei wouldn't slay the intruder. 

In a corner of the great bed, half-hidden under the open canopy, sat Csevet, waiting, as he asked of him. He was still wearing the sailor's costume, but had braided his hair down his back again; his legs were tucked at his chest, his arms around his knees, his ears completely neutral. Only the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed his apparent calmness. He uncurled himself from the tight posture but remained there half-sitting, half-kneeling, intent eyes fixed on Maia.

Relief and joy flooded Maia's heart, mixed with a new kind of apprehension: he wanted to rush to the bed and embrace Csevet once more but he was very keenly aware of both Kiru and Telimezh looking at him. He had doubts before; now he was sure that he would be unable to forget about the nohecharei's presence, even with the thick bedhangings pulled together. The very thought made his desire wither away. He swallowed and turned to them, hoping that his words would convey the assured calmness he wasn't feeling. 

"Will you please leave us to ourselves?" 

Somehow, he kept his voice from breaking. Kiru regarded him solemnly.

"Serenity, you know we are not supposed to." She looked at Csevet and added, "Especially not if you are to stay." Maia's heart sank -- but after a moment, Kiru continued. "First and foremost, though, we are not supposed to let any harm come to you. Either in body or in spirit."

It took a heartbeat for Maia to realize what Kiru actually meant by that. He blinked; he didn't know how to answer to that but after a long and silent second, Kiru nodded.

"Good night, then." And with that, she crossed the room to the small balcony overlooking the Court, and closed the room behind herself. Telimezh, after an embarrassed moment where he clearly couldn't decide if he should -- and after Kiru's decision, could -- say or do something, managed a silent, stiff half-bow in Maia's general direction before exiting to the main corridor.

 

Maia found himself standing in front of the bed awkwardly; Csevet looked up at him, his face and ears deep pink now, his eyes shining with something Maia didn't dare to name.

"I took the liberty of telling thine edocharei that they will not be needed until early in the afternoon," Csevet said in a low voice and extended his hand. Maia stepped closer, took it and let Csevet pull him down beside himself. He was taut with nerves and desperately wished he could just shed his embarrassment and ignorance, like clothes, but he had no idea what to do, or how. 

Csevet's palm slowly slid up his back; when Maia turned his head to look at him, Csevet's face was white as snow again. 

"Do you rather want me to go now?" he whispered. Maia grabbed for his other hand without thinking. 

"No! Please, don't. I... I only..."

He could not finish but Csevet seemed to understand anyway. He stood and blew the candle out -- darkness filled the room, thick and smooth as syrup, and for a moment Maia was sure that Csevet would leave anyway. But in another moment the mattress dipped again as Csevet returned and settled behind him. Gently, he pulled Maia backwards into his embrace, close enough to slide his arms under Maia's, his palms over his heart. He laid his cheek on Maia's shoulder -- and said nothing. The strands of hair that escaped from his queue tickled Maia's neck. 

For long seconds there was only the silence, the swirling darkness around them, and Csevet's hand on his chest, warm and strong and solid. Slowly, Maia's heartbeat stilled, his breathing evened out again. His eyes adjusted to the weak light of the dawn filtering in through the curtains; now he could make out more and more details of the well-known furniture around him. 

And then he realized that there was only the two of them. No one else to see, to hear, to know. 

No one to play the emperor for. 

He lifted his hand to Csevet's, laced their fingers together, and drew it up to kiss Csevet's palm. He heard a short gasp, then Csevet raised his head, lifted his other hand from Maia's heart, too, leaving a fleeting coolness in its place, turned Maia's head aside with gentle force and kissed him. 

It was much chaster than in the Untheileian, hardly more than a tentative touch. Maia's lips tingled in want of more. He could not stop a dissatisfied noise escaping; in the next moment he  _ felt _ Csevet's smile under his own as Csevet kissed him again, this time properly. His tongue slid into Maia's mouth. Maia, experimentally, sucked on it -- and Csevet broke away with a desperate moan. 

"Wilt either kill me or make me ruin my pants before long," he murmured, and touched his forehead to Maia's. Before Maia could say anything -- not that he had any idea  _ what _ \-- Csevet kissed him again, even more demanding. His hands trailed up Maia's arm, the touch almost lost through the heavy fabric of the costume, onto his shoulder, his neck, his hair. Maia felt a gentle tug, as Csevet pulled out a tashin stick, then another, and another... after the sticks Csevet ran his fingers lightly over the plaits to find and remove the pins and combs, too. One by one he took them, and a strange, tingling feeling spread over Maia's scalp as the too-tight braids first loosened, then slipped down over one another, then fell onto his shoulders and back. He could not suppress a shudder. 

Csevet leaned out to the side and a series of light wooden and metallic clacks signaled that he had put the sticks and combs onto the bedside table before returning to carefully undo what remained of Maia's braids. 

"So beautiful," he murmured, slowly finger-combing the strands that, once freed, gratefully sprang back to their curl. Each time his fingertips touched Maia's scalp or ears Maia had to bite his lips to be able to control his breathing. His arousal was almost painful again; he wanted more, wanted to touch and to be touched, wanted to feel Csevet's skin under his palm, on his own skin. The fear that he would prove himself miserable still nagged him but now he was able to shut it firmly away.  _ I can learn.  _

The cowl of his costume suddenly became too tight around his neck; with an impatient move he tugged it off and, for lack of a better idea, dropped it beside the bed. Immediately, soft and gentle fingers ran along the neckline of his tunic. Maia shivered -- the fine linen felt coarse against his skin. 

"Yes," whispered Csevet into his ear, making him shiver again, harder. "I want thee out of these, too. They're in the way." 

He slid his tongue up along the edge of Maia's ear and sucked the tip into his mouth. Maia gasped at the sensation and almost collapsed against him -- then hastily tugged tunic, breeches and underclothes off, squirming in a way that, he supposed, would have been ridiculous, if not for the mercy of the almost-complete darkness of the room. All the while Csevet continued to kiss and caress his ears, neck, nape, shoulders; light touches of lips, fingertips and nails that nevertheless felt like lines of fire drawn on his skin.

"Wilt not undress thyself?" Maia asked hoarsely. He observed distantly that he was not even embarrassed of himself anymore, half-sitting, half-lying astride his  _ lover's  _ lap without wearing a stitch. "I wish... I wish to touch thee, too."

Csevet embraced and kissed him again; this time Maia tried to kiss him back properly, and, judging from Csevet's small moans, he did well.

"I might not be able to keep my control if thou didst," Csevet whispered. "I've been wanting this for too long. Let me first... after that, canst do anything thou want'st with me."

It was a simple request, yet Maia found as Csevet's hands slid onto his shoulders, chest, stomach, that he was unable to comply. Unable to keep his hands off Csevet. He turned and tried to tug Csevet's tunic off, too, but it was too long, its edge caught somewhere between them.

"Hast promised to corrupt me before dawn," he protested. "How, if thou remainst dressed?"

"Oh, I don't have to be naked to do that," Csevet laughed, but he shifted his weight and pulled off the tunic, then removed his trousers, too, much more gracefully than Maia did before. Maia wished he could see more than the outlines of his body; he wished for the candlelight but thought,  _ maybe next time,  _ and the realization that there could be a next time almost overwhelmed him.

His questing fingers found Csevet's ear, traced its line lightly, eliciting another low moan, then caressed his cheek -- when his forefinger reached Csevet's lips he sucked it into his mouth, and Maia groaned, partly from surprise, partly because of the flash of fresh desire that hit him. His hips jerked forward instinctively; in the next moment he found himself lying on his side, Csevet's arms around him, tight and impatient, and Csevet's lips on his, hot and eager. Their bodies pressed together, Maia, inexperienced as he was, couldn't mistake Csevet's hardness against his own. He slid his hand along Csevet's back to map the smooth ripples of muscle -- every inch of warm skin under his fingers was a new marvel to discover -- down to his firm and round buttocks, then back to undo his braid. Csevet's gasps shuddered on Maia's neck as his hair, fine like silk and almost shimmering with a light of its own, fanned out on the bed. Maia slid his hand into the strands, onto Csevet's nape, and pulled Csevet to himself for another dizzying kiss. 

Finally, Csevet lifted his head. 

"Now, as to corrupting thee before dawn..." he said with only a hint of laughter in his voice, "I might be late already, so I'd better hurry up." His small, hot kisses trailed to Maia's cheek, jaw and neck; his fingers found Maia's ear again and caressed it gently with a tip of a nail. Maia threw back his head and bit his lips to stop himself from moaning loudly. Csevet's hand slid onto his chest, one finger circling his nipple, and the sensation made Maia's breath catch again. Csevet murmured something Maia didn't quite understand, but before he could have asked, Csevet slid down on the bed to suck on that nipple and the words flew out of Maia's head. 

Csevet's hand moved lower, fingers spread on Maia's belly, mapping all the sensitive points, and Maia groaned; the touches that would have been otherwise just tickling heightened his lust even more. He ached to be touched yet had no idea how to ask... but finally, mercifully, Csevet's fingers reached his cock and curled around it. 

"Goddesses, art perfect." Csevet began to stroke Maia in slow movements. Maia's breath rushed out of him with a choked moan, his spine arched with the sensation of another's hand on him -- then Csevet began to kiss a trail along the spots his fingers found just before, shifting lower on the bed, and even though Maia had heard of such acts of  _ corruption _ before, the knowledge didn't prepare him for the sensation of Csevet's tongue on his cockhead, his lips on the shaft.

Sparks of lightning ran up his spine, made his scalp tingle, his toes curl. He bit his teeth together to stop his loud cries but his small, desperate whimpers kept escaping as Csevet dictated a rhythm that, Maia felt, would break either his body, his mind or both very soon. One hand fisted in the bedsheets, the other found Csevet’s hair and pulled on it. Csevet moaned around his cock and for a moment Maia, forgetting himself entirely, pulled even harder before he realized what he was doing and let go. 

Csevet, however, didn't cease his efforts to drive Maia completely mad: he sucked and licked and teased him, caressed his belly and thighs, and Maia couldn't do anything but lay there and take it, gasping for air and whimpering. He tried to warn Csevet about his imminent climax but Csevet seemed to read the signs of body well enough: he slowed down even more, until Maia felt like a string about to snap... then stopped entirely, leaving Maia trembling, unable to even protest. He shifted back up on the bed, smiling; he tried to say something but Maia seized and kissed him instead, so the word came out as a muffled moan. The half-formed thought that he probably should find this disgusting instead of arousing passed through Maia's mind but as their hips rocked against each other he found that he didn't care for  _ shoulds _ anymore. He just wanted more; more of that, more of everything. More of Csevet. 

"I swear I could just kiss thee like this until I either spend myself or wake," Csevet murmured. "Even if this is very likely going to be the morning when I die of the shock of withdrawal. Wilt miss me?"

"What?" Maia laughed softly, unable to follow, his mind still deluged with desire and pleasure. 

"Why, how many nights, dost thou think, have I dreamed the same?" Csevet asked in a low, almost fierce voice. "How many times have I imagined thee in my arms, in my bed? In my  _ body?  _ And how many mornings have I woken wanting, certain that I can never have this?" He punctuated his sentences with small kisses to Maia's lips, cheeks, eyelids, ears, and Maia trembled at the words. He couldn't help imagining it all -- his secretary, face expressionless, voice professional, during all the long workdays, audiences, and all the while thinking about... this. 

"Tell me." His voice left him but Csevet understood and leaned even closer to his ear. 

"Every night since I set my eyes on thee," he whispered, his breath hot and tickling. Maia tensed, his fingers dug involuntarily into Csevet's back; he let go immediately but Csevet didn't seem to mind. "Every single night. And every single day. It was a torture to see thee and know I could not touch thee. Though until now I never had dreams quite so lifelike," he added with a wicked smile in his voice, and slid his leg over Maia's to draw him even closer.

"Then try not to wake up just yet," Maia said without thinking and turned to follow -- and found himself lying between Csevet's spread legs, propped up on his forearms so as to not crush him. He leaned in for another kiss and reached between their bodies to finally do some more exploration for himself.

Their cocks were pressed together anyway, so he took both in his hand, thumb smearing the early seed on Csevet's head. Csevet cried out, his whole body tensed, his cock twitched hard against Maia's palm, and Maia was suddenly even more sorry for the lack of light around them. He consoled himself with kissing along Csevet's neck, then sucking on the smooth skin just above Csevet's racing pulse. 

"Wait," Csevet gasped, and Maia, alarmed, let go. Csevet took a deep breath and drew him down for another kiss.

"It's all right. I just think thou art now quite ready to be fully corrupted," he said and turned to reach for the bedside table. Maia used the opportunity to slide two fingers down his ribs; Csevet huffed and squirmed under him. There was a knock, something rolled away and fell to the floor -- a tashin stick, judging from the sound -- followed by another knock and a small, popping sound of a small bottle uncorked. A light, yet spicy scent filled the air. 

"What's that?" 

"Just some oil. I'm preparing thee to take me." 

Hearing the matter-of-fact words Maia felt an equal measure of lust and dread flood him. The notion wasn't really new to him, either, but any time he heard about it, mostly from curses or malevolent gossip, it never seemed to be an act enjoyable for the receiver.

"Dost... dost truly want it?" he managed to ask just before Csevet turned back to him and curled his oil-slicked fingers around Maia's cock, which twitched eagerly.

"Oh, I do. Very much. Haven't I told thee just now?" 

Before Maia could have formed a reply, Csevet poured some more oil onto his fingers, re-corked the bottle, then simply dropped it beside the bed. He shifted underneath Maia, as if searching for a more comfortable position, reached down between them, then spread his legs farther and took hold of Maia's cock again, guiding him to his hole. "I'm ready," he said in a low voice.  

Maia swallowed his doubts and pushed forward slowly. He felt a momentarily resistance but it immediately yielded and slick, tight hotness enveloped him. Csevet tipped his head back and gave a broken half-cry. "Yes... goddesses, don't stop!"

Maia immediately forgot his uncertainty and had to grab the bedsheet to fight the urge to snap his hips forward, all the harder to do so, because Csevet dug his fingers into his shoulder and wrapped his legs around Maia's waist, pulling him even closer, deeper. Once fully inside, Maia stopped and closed his eyes, quivering.

He felt a soft kiss on his temple, heard a soft whisper in his ear. "Maia. I'm not going to break. I promise."

Maia replied by capturing Csevet's lips in a kiss, then pulled back and drove his hips forward, as forcefully as he dared. Csevet groaned into his mouth.  

"Yes... sweet goddesses, feel'st so good in me, I'm not going to last half a minute. Don't hold back now."

Maia obliged him, dizzy with the way Csevet moved to meet his every thrust, holding on to him with a grip that was near painful. His own pleasure was building rapidly, heat pooling in his belly and groin; their shared rhythm swept him away, too, until the world dissolved and only the two of them remained, gasping for air between thrusts, hearts hammering erratically. 

_ I'm not going to last half a minute. _ It wasn't very long indeed before Csevet threw his head back and cried out; his whole body arched under Maia. Maia felt both his cock, trapped between their bodies, and his inner muscles spasm and the sensation was enough to take him over the edge too. Climax crashed over him like the waves of a tidal surge and left him trembling, completely spent, in Csevet's arms. 

Csevet continued to rock against him until Maia sighed and let his head fall onto Csevet's shoulder. He felt both empty and full, a strange but very content state -- he could have remained so for a long time if not the fear for crushing Csevet. He looked up. 

"This... this was..."

"I know." Maia could hear the smile in Csevet's voice. "I felt it, too." He slid his hand onto Maia's nape to draw him in for another kiss, slow, sated and sweet. "I think I've done a good job corrupting thee,  _ barata."  _

"Mm," Maia agreed. "Can'st repeat it any time." 

Csevet laughed, and with one last kiss, turned to extricate himself from under Maia.  

"Let me clean us up, for now." He leaned down at the side of the bed, rummaged a bit among their discarded clothes and emerged with a handkerchief. He attended to both of them with movements that spoke of routine, then pressed another kiss to Maia's lips. "Thank thee." 

With that, he sat up and started again to shift through the garments on the floor. Maia pushed himself up on one elbow. 

"What art doing?" 

Csevet turned back, and Maia could see the incomprehension on his face even in the dim light. 

"Putting some clothes on," he said. "I really can't walk through half the Alcethmeret naked...?"

"But why..." Maia suddenly understood and bit the sentence in half; extended his hand and touched Csevet's tousled hair. "Would'st stay? Please," he added hastily, and after a long moment, Csevet leaned back into his embrace. 

"Gladly, an thou truly want'st me to," he whispered. Another kiss, another smile. "But then let's get under the sheets before we both catch a cold and need to stay in bed for an entirely different reason."

"Of course." Maia had to stand up, too, in order to move the broad comforter; now, he felt the chilly air on his naked skin and shivered. Under the blanket, he pulled Csevet close once more; the warm, soft weight fit into his arms perfectly. Still, there was something he needed to ask, to make clear, if only he knew how to begin....

"Sailor, it seems that the high tide is over and left thee stranded," he murmured. "What art going to do now?" 

"Might try to find a job as someone's secretary." Csevet's fingers snuck into Maia's hair. "Hast any recommendations, perchance?"

"Hm, actually, I do have one. But it's a very demanding job. All day... and all night. Every day." 

He fought the urge to bit his lip as he waited for Csevet's reply. 

"Every day? Demanding indeed." Csevet heaved a  dramatic sigh. "Ah well... if the incentives are any good, I think I'll take it." 

A wave of warm joy washed over Maia; he sighed and pressed a kiss to Csevet's lips. "Accepted."

Then he closed his eyes and let the soft sound of his lover's breathing fill his heart with dreamy peace. 

 

 

Some time later the door of his inner chamber opened. Maia looked up drowsily through the parted bedhangings that neither of them cared to pull together at dawn but saw nothing -- then, with a choked noise that sounded like the shocked Beshelar the door closed again, fast enough to click loudly. 

_ So, it is settled,  _ Maia thought, too sleepy and relaxed to feel true exasperation. Just as he lowered his head back onto the pillow, however, the door opened again, and Cala stepped in.  _ Time for the shift change, _ Maia realized.  _ It's morning.  _

Cala looked at them, and seeing that Maia is awake, he smiled. 

"We are sorry for waking you," he whispered. "Go back to sleep, Serenity. It is still very early."

Before Maia could reply, he stepped out to the little balcony to relieve Kiru. A minute and a couple of murmured sentences later she entered, crossed the room with noiseless steps, and exited with an almost silent  _ sleep well, Serenity.  _

Maia sighed contentedly and carefully touched Csevet's hair, spread out on the pillows. Csevet, probably used to much more noisy rooms to sleep in, didn't even stir. 

_ So this is what happiness feels like, _ Maia thought, and with that he let sleep pull him under again. 

 


End file.
